


Flawless

by PastelBlueDahlia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Model Viktor, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rare Pairings, Singer JJ, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 12:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/PastelBlueDahlia
Summary: „What now?“ His big earrings tinkle softly as he turns his head, baring his throat in a way he knows provokes, makes others want to mark and bite him.JJ sends him a heated smile as he quickly takes of his jacket, a hand on his belt. „I think this is my job,“ Viktor drawls and pulls JJ closer by his belt loops, a thumb getting lost between his dress shirt and his Gucci belt, the small stripe of naked skin heated and soft. JJ grins down at him and lifts his hands in mocking, exaggerated surrender.The dress pants drop to the floor like a curtain: The show begins now.- - - - -Viktor is a model, and JJ is the lead singer of a rockband Viktor can never remember the name of. Somehow, they end up in bed together





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why I wrote this, then I can only say: I have no idea and it's all BoredMoose fault
> 
> But there will be like 3 people who click on this so this is nice and I hope you like what I wrote

 

 

 

If someone asked Viktor Nikiforov if he knew André Lambiel, his answer would be no.  
  
Viktor wouldn‘t know about his wicked smile, about his rough hands with these lovely blunt nails that would never quite leave marks but prick so deliciously in skin, Viktor wouldn‘t know about the way he likes to hold his champagne glass or the way he watches dancing people, wouldn‘t know about the way his dress shoes tap in the beat of the music as if he couldn‘t wait to finally join them and dance too.  
  
Viktor wouldn‘t know about the fact that he‘s the way less famous brother of Stéphane Lambiel, who charmed half the globe and the entirety of the skating world. Viktor included.  
  
Well, what Viktor _does_ know is that he had a crush on  Stéphane, which wasn‘t anything special in general, but disconcerting and new in particular for Viktor, whose last crush was none other than Christian Dior which he would announce loudly while grinning when someone wanted to talk with him about love, and he felt like Holly Golighty when she said that men only aroused her when they were forty. Viktor doesn‘t mention that he loves Christian because he‘s the father of fashion and that he likes the feeling of rough, callused hands on his smooth skin and crow's feet framing soft eyes.  
  
And what Viktor also knows is that at a fancy aftershow party he had a drink too much and could convince himself so fucking easily that it were Stéphane's blunt nails that dug into his hips as they were swaying to the beat in the dark. The wicked smile helped immensely.  
  
What Viktor also knows is that in that night, he staggered in the arms of a man to his hotelroom. Walking was hard with lips on his neck and hot, moist breath on his ear, hands tightly wrapped around his waist, and when they finally got inside Viktor experienced what was probably the most intense foreplay of his entire life that left him shivering and aching and even honest to god begging on the expensive white sheets.  
  
And then: A dick up his ass that almost made him laugh into his pillow.  
  
So no, Viktor doesn‘t know anyone named André Lambiel.  
  
Here‘s a secret: Viktor does know him. Very well even, if you haven‘t guessed already.  
  
The thing about Viktor is that he likes it classy. That means shimmering dresses, tailored suits, jewelry that glints in limousines, expensive champagne. But all of that wouldn‘t mean a thing without grace, dignity, friendliness and hospitality. If that comes off as fake sometimes, then that‘s okay, it is and Viktor isn‘t too naive or too proud to admit that. He doesn‘t want to remember, and effectively pretends to have forgotten the times he found a shimmering celebrity hunched up in their bathroom, crying their eyes out, some while vomiting, others while sniffling and trying to hide the white on their nose, just to snap at Viktor, to drag him into a desperate kiss, or the most heartbreaking of all: smile.  
  
The important thing for Viktor is etiquette, knowing how to act in society and how to seem likable. And that includes _don‘t like, don‘t tell._  
  
It‘s maybe the most important rule he follows, even though he knows that almost nobody else sticks to it. Everyone loves gossip and rumors, and that  thing that happened at Susan‘s Christmas party really was unforgettable, but-  
  
Viktor never told a soul.

He just smiled and pushed his Gucci glasses higher when he was asked about it.  
  
So, the most important thing is dignity and no gossiping.  
  
And that‘s exactly why he pretends to not remember any of the times a one night stand goes wrong. It‘s simply because of good manners, a matter of etiquette. And it‘s easier to forget things he doesn‘t think about.  
  
Here‘s another secret: By the end of the night, Viktor will pretend to not know Jean-Jacques Leroy too.

 

 

 

A gala. Important, expensive people in tight suits and even tighter dresses, in every hand a glass of champagne.  
  
Then there‘s Viktor. Sipping, standing, waiting, observing. The dress is 8200 dollars, Krikor Jabotian, mauve, the fabric so smooth and thin it makes his hipbones stand out and hugs his body nicely in a way that attracts gazes. And hands. And maybe the hands won‘t be the only thing pressed against him if he just keeps standing and looking the way he does.  
  
Viktor knows what alcohol does to people, and knows how many use it as an excuse to do what they want. A playful pinch in his 8200 dollar ass cheek, and Viktor laughs and if he doesn‘t like them he slithers effortlessly out of their hands like a silk scarf.  
  
He knows most of the people here, and half of them he already forgot or pretends to have forgotten. The others pretend too.  
  
Viktor waits.  
  
Then, emerging from the crowd there‘s the lead singer of the infamous rock band, the one Viktor can never remember the name of. Young. Dark hair in an undercut. A dark blue suit. Viktor tries to determine if it‘s custom-made or if it's off the peg, and then JJ already spots Viktor, grins and walks up to him.  
  
Viktor smiles on autopilot.  
  
They talked a few times, but this seems different. Because JJ‘s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for something and apparently having found it in Viktor. JJ wants _something._  
  
JJ is bad at talking about everything that doesn‘t involve music, Canada or himself, and Viktor is bad at talking about everything hat doesn‘t interest him (Who is he kidding. Viktor is good at talking about everything and anything to anyone. But sometimes Viktor likes the ring it has to it.  ‚Viktor is bad at something‘. He really, really likes it, in a way someone who isn‘t gifted in so many things and drowned constantly in praise wouldn‘t understand. Oh, here he goes again being conceited. He really doesn‘t mean to, but this is what over a decade of modeling does to you. Viktor knows he's good at what he does, and everyone who sees him knows it too)  
  
Viktor doesn‘t like his music, and when JJ asked him what kind of music he listened to instead, Viktor didn‘t knew how to answer. He hates it when people try to intrude on small, personal things. He‘s a model, a celebrity, and why would someone willingly take all that glamour and shimmer away and deliberately reduce him to this disheveled mess who pretends to be Edith Piaf while wearing ugly pajamas and using his toothbrush as a mike?  
  
No one except JJ Leroy, and Viktor does‘t like it when people stray from the normal, when they surprise you.  
  
That‘s Viktor‘s job after all.  
  
(And who is he if others take that away from him?)  
  
Anyway, now JJ walks up to him and says, no, purrs: „Is that a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them later.“  
  
His eyes are sparkling with mirth, but maybe it‘s just a trick of the light. Viktor takes a sip of his champagne. He can deal with that.  
  
„Does it look like I‘m wearing pants right now?“ he drawls and then smiles sharply, dangerously. He can see the glint of his large silver earrings reflected on JJ‘s face as he splutters something that gets lost in the music and then laughs loudly, throwing his head back.  
  
_You don‘t have to try so hard_ , Viktor thinks and lets his eyes wander as he takes another sip, trying to lock eyes with anyone to get away from JJ. Someone more entertaining, someone who makes his blood boil, someone better, someone older, someone-  
  
Nothing.  
  
If etiquette wouldn‘t be so important to him he would have sighed. Instead, he directs his full-blown smile to JJ. It reminds him of the cover page of Vogue, September, all white and gold and smiles that looked surprisingly genuine. Maybe it was because the photographer looked like Stéphane.  
  
„I assume you want something from me?“ he asks, and JJ nods. Looks down, then up and then on his dress shoes, and _oh._  
  
_Oh, this might be fun._  
  
„All right then.“ he says cheerfully and downs his champagne.  
  
_Easy._  
  
Leaving is not so much when you‘re the most well-known model in the industry.

 

 

 

In the limousine, JJ doesn‘t talk so Viktor doesn‘t talk so JJ doesn‘t talk.  
  
Viktor finds that he doesn‘t mind at all. He tries to make himself small, to disappear in his fake fur coat, shivers and looks at the wet streets that reflect the neon signs and traffic lights.  
  
The rain makes even a bright yellow Mc Donald's sign look aesthetic on the jet black wet streets.  
  
Viktor looks outside and wonders if it started to snow back at home in St. Petersburg: it‘s November already.  
  
JJ looks equally in thought.  
  
The driver is silent while JJ and Viktor keep an arm's length space between each other, almost as if they are too shy to touch or kiss with someone else in the limousine.  
  
Which is definitely not the case. Viktor still remembers being drunk and sucking a handful of guys off, and the driver or whoever it was swerved and stopped suddenly so that Viktor would choke on a cock more than once, knees hitting something wet and sticky, champagne, and the too loud laughter from everyone, hysterically in a way that made Viktor‘s blood pump disgustingly, hands grabbing and coaxing him back on laps, feeling used and empty and-  
  
Actually, Viktor doesn‘t remember any of that.

 

 

  
The corridor of the hotel is dimly lit in a way that makes Viktor want to almost lower his voice. It feels like intruding the second floor of someone‘s house and trying to keep quiet, trying to not step on the creaking floorboards, listening with tense muscles for the soft snoring from parents.  
  
JJ keeps striding in front of him, steps sure, but Viktor can see on the way his head bobs from room to room that he doesn‘t remember where he's supposed to go.  
  
When he finally finds it JJ turns around triumphantly, smiling with a closed mouth, eyes sparkling warmly and _damn,_ he _really_ reminds Viktor of a puppy. He unlocks the door and then holds it open for Viktor to enter.  
  
Viktor finds the light switch and then scrunches his eyes at the sudden brightness.  
  
The room is pretty with its big panorama windows, the balcony and the breathtaking view of the city below. But Viktor didn‘t come to admire the view. Or at least not _that_ view. Even though Viktor likes the room it‘s nothing he hasn‘t seen before, and it definitely doesn‘t reach up to the standard he learned to get used to.  
  
In the morning he will have enough time to properly look at the skyline, sitting on the balcony while drinking coffee. Over the years it became almost a routine to do this with everyone he slept with, and he can say that he looked at countless different skylines all over the world in the past years, drank different coffee from different coffee machines and coffee shops, and changed the person he slept with quickly just like he did his clothes.

Loosened their arms around him like he would unbutton a dress shirt, slipped out of their grasp like taking of a too warm and too heavy coat in the spring sun.  
  
That is to say, all of this will only happen if he even stays the night.  
  
By the way JJ looks at him he probably will.  
  
Viktor just can‘t resist these puppy eyes.  
  
„So?“ he asks and sits down at the bed, leaning backwards on his hands. „What now?“ His big earrings tinkle softly as he turns his head, baring his throat in a way he knows provokes, makes others want to mark and bite him.  
  
JJ sends him a heated smile as he quickly takes of his jacket, a hand on his belt. „I think this is my job,“ Viktor drawls and pulls JJ closer by his belt loops, a thumb getting lost between his dress shirt and his Gucci belt, the small stripe of naked skin heated and soft. JJ grins down at him and lifts his hands in mocking, exaggerated surrender.  
  
The dress pants drop to the floor like a curtain: The show begins now.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Viktor feels his mouth water now that he‘s at eye level with JJ‘s dick, and maybe his face fell a bit from the smirking model to the hungry predator, which is in some ways the same because god knows Viktor is always hungry for _more_ , because JJ suddenly stops his hands.  
  
„Wait.“ He says, and Viktor's head snaps up, earrings tinkling, but JJ‘s face doesn‘t fit anymore to the almost breaking voice. Instead, he smiles.  
  
He lets go of Viktor‘s hands and turn the bedside lamp on, then switches the room light off. Viktor‘s smile widens.  
  
„You take a model home with you and then don‘t want to look at it?“ he teases, „Oh, I understand, you don‘t want to-“ he smiles and makes a jerking motion with his hand, „Finish this too quickly.“  
  
JJ laughs, and somehow it‘s softer, quieter, not the loud and annoying thing from before. He seems different suddenly, and Viktor can‘t quite put a finger on it yet.  
  
_My oh my_ , Viktor thinks, _that JJ is actually interesting._  
  
Usually the people who take Viktor home with them look like they want to inspect every spot of his body, to shine through him with a flashlight to understand him like the see through and delicate wings of a butterfly, most of them not able to contain the praise of his beauty and also not their envy, the way that for a second when they undressed Viktor they got this complicated expression almost as if Viktor was _too_ perfect. To be honest, it sometimes fills him with pride. Most of the time he just smiles softly. Other times, the times he never wants to think about, it breaks his spine into crumbs, hollows him out and scrapes him raw.  
  
JJ comes back and kisses Viktor.  
  
It feels almost strange.  
  
He takes Viktor‘s head between his hands, almost tenderly, and they are so warm, sweating even, and he holds Viktor‘s head as if he's something precious, something vulnerable and fragile, his lips soft and his breath warm, and _oh_ , when was the last time he slept with someone younger than him?  
  
Viktor snakes a hand between his cheek and JJ's hand. Holding it tight. Their smiles dropped some time ago, lost somewhere. Maybe they dropped with JJ‘s pants, Viktor isn‘t sure.  
  
Viktor shuffles to take his high heels off, then moves further up the bed and lies down. He expects JJ to throw himself on top of him, to drown him with kisses and smother him like a wave, but surprisingly, he doesn‘t. Instead he lies next to Viktor and turns around, his feverish hand on the nape of Viktor‘s neck, and he pretends that the shiver that runs through him at the touch is nothing, it‘s cold, maybe he left the window open.  
  
Viktor likes numbers, and when he gets nervous, which now rarely happens but back then happened all the time, helped him to ground himself. He would count tiles, shoes, lipsticks. Then calories, then kilos, comparing them with others. Then the times he had sex, if it happened more with women or men, if he was drunk or not, if he found money afterwards tucked into his clothes or not. It‘s easy to pretend that this number doesn‘t exist, just like all the others. The numbers are everywhere, they follow him on his bank account, when he buys clothes, the steps it takes to go from his dad‘s apartment to the old bus stop where only every two hours a bus comes, follow him to the gym when his heart pumps after a workout, and how long it takes to go home or to a hotel after a shoot.  
  
With JJ, Viktor doesn‘t count.  
  
And this is maybe the best part about the one night stands: finding if not a person at least a moment like this, when Viktor feels warm and comfortable and stops counting the minutes. People say that counting sheep helps to fall asleep, and Viktor knows this would never work because it‘s precisely the damn numbers that keep him awake. Nobody tells you to kiss someone who makes you feel warm and young to fall asleep, and maybe this is the reason why humans are so fucked up.  
  
If everyone would fall asleep like this the world would definitely be a better place.  
  
JJ keeps his hands on Viktor‘s waist and on the nape of his neck, a warm and secure weight, the touch caste and everything but possessive. It‘s nice. Almost too nice actually. It keeps Viktor on his toes, keeps him waiting for something to happen, waits for the moment the flip switches and he gets rough and demanding and bruising, because no matter how innocent and lovely someone seems to be they all change if they hold Viktor in their hands, knowing he won‘t run away.  
  
Nothing happens.  
  
The JJ on stage is loud and bright and talented, almost annoying.  
  
The JJ in the bedroom is quiet and soft and chaste, almost inexperienced.  
  
Viktor wonders if he has kissed a lot of people. A star like him must have. Viktor knows he has kissed a lot of people since he‘s famous.  
  
There‘s no real want or the hot, itching urgency under his skin, but Viktor starts to feel guilty for not doing what he‘s supposed to do, so he pulls away. In the dim light JJ looks even younger with that reddish blush and the half lidded eyes. He almost looks like he woke up from a nice dream. His strong eyebrows are knitted together, wavering and considering something.  
  
Viktor decides to give him a little nudge and give him what he wants but apparently doesn‘t know how to ask.  
  
He smiles and places a hand on JJ‘s shoulder so he lies on his belly, pressing a kiss behind his ear. Viktor notices that he‘s careful with JJ, and honestly he doesn‘t know what to do about it.  
  
JJ‘s ears burn hotly, and he clutches the white pillow against his chest. Viktor straddles his thighs, fingers smoothing the lines of his dress shirt as he slips his fingers under the hem of his boxers, _down down down_ until-  
  
Viktor laughs.  
  
„Oh, I totally forgot about the tattoos,“ he laughs and points with a light touch at JJ‘s tramp stamp. He turns around and _oh_. Viktor stops laughing.  
  
_Rule number one: Don‘t laugh about his tattoos._  
  
„It‘s pretty,“ he says then soothingly, surprisingly sounding fond instead of fake. His puppy eyes glint too strongly in the dimly lit room.  
  
When Viktor finally has JJ‘s naked, plump ass in from of him he leans down to his ear and whispers „What do you want?“  
  
„I-“ JJ stops. Viktor almost wants to draw circles into his broad shoulders. „What do _you_ want?“ he asks instead.  
  
This is definitely not what Viktor was expecting. Not because he never heard this before, but because it‘s been so long since he believed those words. The thing is that those words are often just a hushed whisper, a hot moan in his ear, a disguise of wanting to give when they actually only thought about themselves. Most people only want to feel good about themselves, that they‘re able to give someone, give Viktor what he wants, a metaphorically _You did great!_ stamp on their forehead that proves that they could be wanted from someone as famous, as pretty, as expensive as Viktor. In most cases it was just dirty talk without intention.  
  
But this here feels genuine, closer somehow, as if JJ would actually listen to what Viktor is telling him. The last time he felt like this was at Starbucks.  
  
So he decides to be honest, because how can you expect to receive an order if you keep quiet?  
  
„Sixty-nine?“ he asks, heart in his throat like he didn‘t do this countless times before and even filthier things.  
  
Viktor is a chameleon. And maybe the reason he acts this shy, feels this shy is because JJ radiates this buzzing nervous energy like he‘s not sure what to do, what to say, and if he would be normally like this then Viktor could have gotten used to it, adapt to his personality and form the fitting puzzle piece to him, but now like this it hits him completely unprepared. Viktor isn‘t sure if he dislikes it.  
  
JJ nods, and then Viktor gets off him so he can turn on his back.  
  
„Do you have condoms?“ he asks, and then JJ shifts to pull open a drawer. The package of condoms is deep red. Still unopened. Viktor counts how many words are on the front of the package so his mind doesn‘t drift off to wonder what this might mean.  
  
JJ holds Viktor‘s floor-lenght dress up, sliding over the back of his thighs and ass so slowly and carefully that the shivers make his arms shake as he leans over JJ. His ass is bare except for the thong. Then he grabs a condom and strokes JJ‘s cock while he does the same to Viktor‘s. He clutches the condom tightly in his hand and bites his lip, feels himself hardening and his thighs shake as his fringe falls over his left eye.  
  
He opens the wrapper and pulls the condom over JJ‘s cock, and as soon as he feels a condom on himself he sinks down and sucks on the artificial strawberry flavored cock. It‘s pretty, but what Viktor likes the most about it is how eager it is, how it hardens so quickly, and it almost makes him feel old. They can probably go a second round without using Viagra. Viktor can‘t say that he isn‘t looking forward to that.  
  
His earrings are a little nuisance because they are simply too big, but Viktor likes the sound they make whenever he bobs his head, the soft tinkling in the quiet room reminding of wind chimes.  
  
JJ isn‘t very good, but it gets worse when whenever Viktor finds a particular good, sensitive spot which happens to be all the time. He doesn‘t pull away, but his mouth gets slack, and Viktor is sure that it would form a perfect o. He‘s so tempted to just ram his cock deep into JJ‘s throat, all the way up to the hilt, wants to feel his fingernails digging helplessly into his ass and wants his eyes to water, wants his throat to get raspy and to hurt, wants him to blush when he has to go to band rehearsal tomorrow and can‘t sing because last night he choked on the cock of model legend Viktor Nikiforov.  
  
If Viktor would be a little meaner, then he would do it. He wasn‘t even aware of the fact that he had this mean streak during sex, that he would want to do something like this, but maybe it‘s because JJ is so damn young and successful that it makes Viktor a little jealous, makes him want to get him down to earth.  
  
JJ comes.

It surprises Viktor because JJ is so unexpectedly quiet during sex (but how loud can you be if someone thrusts their cock in your mouth). He pants, and when Viktor gets off him his face seems to be frozen in his orgasm face because it just doesn‘t relax.  
  
Viktor smiles and softly tips against JJ‘s sweaty crease between his eyebrows, smoothing it out. JJ closes his eyes, and Viktor suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to pat his head, to stroke his hair, to praise him as a good boy as his body gets lax and completely still, almost as if he‘s afraid that Viktor will take his hand away if he breathes, his hands folded on his belly but there‘s still that tension in his shoulders that betrays him.  
  
It‘s fascinating, in a way. Completely not what he expected.  
  
Then JJ‘s eyes snap open, and he looks at Viktor‘s wilting cock. „Sorry...“ he mumbles and slides closer into Viktor‘s crossed thighs to suck him off properly.  
  
Viktor bites his tongue or presses his lips together to keep quiet because it never matters who tries to get these embarrassing noises out if him: Viktor Nikiforov doesn‘t moan or groan or even sigh in pleasure. Sadly It‘s one of the things he‘s famous for, and it only encourages others to try harder, make this a challenge. The thing is that Viktor‘s voice sounds high and needy and loud, nothing but an encouragement to his partner to do more, to not stop, even though Viktor likes to count the minutes until all of this ends and considers one of the best parts of the countless one night stands that he gets to see all these different, beautiful views from hotel rooms and test himself through various brands of coffee.  
  
But now, Viktor tries to not hold back.  
  
He can‘t explain why it feels like it would be okay with JJ, and only a couple of hours ago he would be the last person Viktor would trust to not spread around how he made the legendary model Viktor Nikiforov moan. It's probably because he's so young that it takes the pressure away from Viktor. JJ isn't nearly as important as photographers, as actors, because he's still new to this. He opens his mouth experimentally, and moans. JJ doesn‘t get faster. He doesn‘t get better. He doesn‘t change in any way.  
  
So Viktor lets out more, allows himself to be loud like he‘s at home and god, he had forgotten how it feels to come with air in his lungs, to come without feeling like all the noises he held in his lungs would make him combust and make his eyes pop out of his head.  
  
It‘s amazing.  
  
Viktor releases his grip on JJ‘s hair and feels sorry for having disheveled it so much. He has gel in his hand, sticky and sweaty, and when JJ gets up to discard both of their condoms Viktor quickly wipes his hand on the sheets.  
  
JJ turns off the bedside lamp.  
  
Then he lies back down, turns on his side and curls himself into a small ball, consisting of long legs, a tramp stamp and a white, rumpled dress shirt. He doesn‘t say anything.  
  
Viktor wonders if this is his keyword to leave.  
  
But then he hears it.  
  
The whimpering.  
  
Viktor isn‘t sure at first if it really comes from him. It just doesn‘t fit, goes against everything he learned about JJ since he climbed the ladder of success and fame.  
  
He puts a hand on JJ‘s shoulder, feels him twitch under his own hand as if he expected Viktor to vanish through the window or simply evaporate after having stilled his desire.  
  
„Is something wrong?“ Viktor asks, his voice way too loud in the static quietness of the room. He slides closer, the wind chimes loud as he hooks his chin over JJ‘s shoulder, a hand coming to rest on his wrist as he whispers „You can tell me about it if you want.“  
  
JJ honest to god sniffles.  
  
„It‘s- I- I have a childhood friend. And she- she kept cheering me on all those years. She always believed in me and she‘s my biggest inspiration, and I- I‘m-“  
  
„You‘re in love with her?“ Viktor finishes, voice curious.  
  
JJ is silent. Then he whispers even quieter than before: „Yeah.“  
  
„What happened?“ Viktor whispers back, directly into his ear and chest pressed against JJ‘s back.  
  
He takes a deep breath before speaking and pulls his arm away from Viktor, so his hand lands on JJ‘s waist. JJ apparently did this to play with a loose thread from his pillow case.  
  
„We fought.“ He says, voice thick. „She told me that I changed, that the press is talking about me having someone and that they made accusations, and she wanted to- wanted to know if they were true. She just- believed them. Without even asking me. She sounded like she believed I was some playboy, some- some slut, even though we've known each other since we were kids, and she said some hurtful stuff, and so I-“ He stops again and turns his cheek further into his pillow, almost as if he wants to hide.  
  
„You wanted to prove her right that you really are a playboy?“  
  
JJ sniffles again and rubs his eyes.  
  
„Yeah, and it was such a stupid idea. I- I actually never meant to sleep with you, I just wanted to be seen talking and maybe going somewhere with you, but you just went along with that awful pick up line, and then I thought don‘t be stupid, this is a once in a lifetime chance. But- but I realized that this isn‘t what I want and I‘m so sorry for dragging you into all of this.“  
  
Viktor keeps silent.  
  
Then he slides higher on the bed, places his chin carefully on the top of JJ‘s head, and with a tenderness that even surprises himself he wraps and arm around him and holds his damp cheek, stroking it with his thumb in a soothing circle.  
  
Viktor is tempted to hum a lullaby, but he doesn‘t know any, or at least none in English. And the Russian ones are still too precious to him.  
  
„Everything‘s gonna be alright,“ he whispers, „You‘ll make up. And we can say that we meet up to talk about album covers or something. Nobody thinks you‘re a slut, JJ. I must know, I know all the gossip,“ he laughs quietly. „And because I‘m the center of all the rumors. _I_ am the slut, not you.“  
  
JJ grabs Viktor‘s wrist, and suddenly he feels like he exposed too much, even though he barely said anything.  
  
„You‘re _not_ a slut.“ He denies with determination. „You‘re-“ Viktor can feel him biting his lips, and he listens into the quietness of his train of thoughts, eyes wide as he stares at the discarded dress pants in the dark. His heart is beating uncontrollably against JJ‘s shoulder and back, and Viktor can‘t help but wonder if JJ can feel it.  
  
„You‘re lonely. That‘s what I think at least.“  
  
Viktor doesn‘t know what to say. He listens into his heart, listens for something in his mind, but both are completely empty. Quiet.  
  
In the dark, there aren‘t even things to count except sheep.  
  
Breathing gets hard.  
  
He feels the need to move, to get weight off him, and he scrabbles off the bed frantically, nails digging into the sequins and the thin fabric until he almost rips open the stuck zipper, and he gets the 8200 dollar dress of his body and lets it drop to the floor. He‘s completely naked as JJ‘s wide puppy eyes stare at him, and he breathes like he just cut open his own rib cage.

Calmer now he takes his silver earrings off and puts them on the nightstand. He steps out of the dress, sees pale legs brightly in the dark, and remembers all the strokes of red lipstick or fineliner or markers all over his body because the other thing was impossible for him as model, would be too obvious, too ugly.  
  
Viktor opens a window, feels the cold November air clash against his skin and shivers. He‘s dramatic, and this feels new and important, so he would say that this moment feels like being reborn.  
  
After taking a couple of breaths he climbs back on the bed, JJ‘s eyes still on him. He helps JJ out of his dress shirt, discards it on the floor like the other clothes.  
  
Then Viktor looks at him, takes the whole sight of him in. His big eyes and dark furrowed brows and the little o of his mouth. _He‘s so young_ , Viktor thinks. So young that he shows all of his emotions so openly and genuinely. He lives for himself and how he wants, and suddenly Viktor can understand all the teenage girls who scream his name.  
  
It‘s beautiful and heartbreaking in a way.  
  
Viktor smiles and taps the crease of JJ‘s forehead. There‘s a hint of a smile on JJ‘s lips as he turns on his side. _Rule Number two: JJ likes to be the little spoon._  
  
Viktor throws the thick blankets over the both of them. It‘s strange how much vulnerability he shows, and Viktor finds that he doesn‘t want to trample on that, doesn‘t want to break and exploit. Maybe partly because others did these things to him already.  
  
The world does not need a new Viktor Nikiforov.  
  
( _Where would his place be in the world then, after he got replaced?_ A selfish voice asks)  
  
Viktor spoons him from behind, and arm thrown over JJ's waist. He‘s barely smaller than Viktor with a wider waist.  
  
Viktor watches how the curtains float in the dark, feels the skin of his face and the tip of his nose numbing from the cold as he stares and stares, unable to look away.  
  
When Viktor isn‘t sure if JJ‘s already asleep or still awake, and when he himself is on the verge of nodding off to sleep, he whispers:  
  
„I am.“  
  
He falls asleep before he can feel the hesitant press of a hand squeezing his.

 

 

  
  
If someone asked Viktor Nikiforov if he knew Jean-Jacques Leroy, his answer would be no.  
  
Viktor wouldn‘t know about the way his voice could get this vulnerably quiet, about the little o his mouth forms so often, Viktor wouldn‘t know about the way he kept looking cross-eyed when he sucked dick, and he definitely wouldn‘t know that JJ is actually a little lonely in all his brightness and loudness.  
  
When Viktor falls in love he understands what was wrong about JJ, and he types a sentence into his phone and then writes it on paper because it doesn't feel right, doesn't feel real enough. Viktor doesn‘t remember the last time when he wrote something different than numbers or his autograph. He holds the stripe of paper in his hands. „JJ was lonely because he scared all the other lonely, shy people away through his loudness and brightness“  
  
Viktor likes to think that this sentence helped him a lot, always reminding him to tone down his fake cheerfulness.  
  
Viktor doesn't know a thing about JJ, but he does know about how loud he can scream into a mike, knows about how he can never really concentrate on interview questions, knows about the way he makes that ridiculous JJ style pose.  
  
Viktor pretends that he doesn‘t know a thing about what happened that night, but he often thinks about it.  
  
That‘s the reason why he didn't even tell Chris because something so precious, something so fundamental and groundbreaking happened that Viktor couldn‘t talk about it. And in general it was hard to describe just what he felt that night.  
  
He was lonely. And someone knew.  
  
It was soothing. And terrifying.  
  
And Viktor understands why the condoms were unopened. And he understands why JJ came to him.  
  
Viktor Nikiforov doesn't know Jean-Jacques Leroy.  
  
But he does know about his loneliness.

 

 

  
  
Approximately one year after that night Viktor sits on the balcony, drinks coffee and checks Instagram.  
  
**JJ marries fan and childhood friend in Vegas**  
  
Viktor smiles and thinks of the dark hotelroom from back then.  
  
He puts a finger to the crease of JJ‘s forehead, because he never loses it, not even when he's laughing and has fun.  
  
„He beat me to it...“ he sighs.  
  
„What did you say?“ Yuuri asks as he sits down across from Viktor and blows on his too hot coffee. The gold ring catches the morning light. Yuuri‘s hair is a mess, and he‘s wearing one of Viktor‘s sweaters that‘s too big for him. It's almost slipping of his shoulder and reveals milky white skin, covered in scratch and bitemarks.  
  
Viktor stopped testing out different coffee machines and coffee shops and the views of different hotel rooms. Instead, he found all of that here, with Yuuri.  
  
„Nothing, solnyshko.“ He says and braces his chin in his hand, smiling.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY FINISHED THIS! 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you could enjoy reading this too ♥♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading ♥♥♥
> 
> My tumblr is www.its-peach-bleach.tumblr.com


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